Creative Writing, yo
So as I've mentioned, I'm taking Creative Writing this semester. I got my first paper back a few days ago. My teacher absolutely loved it, and I did much better than I thought I would <3 And since I haven't posted in forever, I figured why not.
Like many, I remember the glorious summer of freedom and possibilities following my own high school graduation. When fast friends haven’t yet slipped silently into the dusty past, and you can still be a kid for a few months more before being claimed by the rigors of work or college as you take that next step into the unknown.
Blenders growl and whir, grinding coffee and ice and milk and chocolate into submission. Notes of soft jazz float like dust motes in the warm summer sunshine. Espresso beans scent the air as apron-clad baristas wipe down tables and help customers. An elderly gentleman ponders a crossword with a cup of hot tea, while a young man types furiously on a laptop as tinny earbuds scream faintly to drown out the surrounding life.
The front corner of the shop is occupied by five rambunctious teenagers, laughing and gossiping and horsing around. While we don’t mean to disturb other patrons, we haven’t seen one another in a few weeks - which may well be an eternity, as we are not yet accustomed to the loss of lunches, spent together sharing the latest in classroom drama, brought about by the end of school. A round bistro table, a trio of matching iron and wood seats, an almost-forgotten corner table, and two oversized leather armchairs have been shoved into some semblance of a circle, corralling at least our bodies if not our voices. Cups perch on the available surfaces, the concoctions they contain varying from a simple iced mocha to a whipped cream-topped pink oddity.
We are as diverse as the drinks we have ordered, but somehow mesh despite our differences. What Sarah lacks in height, she makes up for with smarts and a generous helping of attitude, which helps her excel when teaching on the slopes or scoring goals on the ice. John is a six-foot-something giant of a swimmer with a tendency to be emotionally clingy when faced with new situations. Lindsey, a total goofball much of the time, is a drama kid and the closest thing to a sister I have ever stumbled upon. A year younger than the rest of us, Anthony is physically every part the cliché high school jock, all tanned skin, lean muscle, and good looks, but with brains and a mischievous streak a mile wide. I finish out our eclectic little group, a full-blown country girl to the core with a secret soft spot for theatre and art.
Giggles erupt as Lindsey starts snapping random shots of our friends with her newest treasure, the digital camera she got for graduation courtesy of her grandparents. Sarah, caught off guard by the flash, scrambles to hide her face with the hand clutching her half-empty drink while complaining about her hair. John pulls a creepy grin, making us all laugh, before breaking into a genuine smile of his own. Settled back into warm leather cushions, Anthony cocks an eyebrow and flashes a lazy smile, ball cap tilted to the side. I duck my head, evading what would have been an unflattering close-up of my nose, agreeing instead to snap a couple frames of Lindsey with arms tossed around John and Sarah.
The five of us continue our chatter for the next hour or so. We talk of weekends already passed, and plans for the future. We’ve all taken various trips in the past few weeks: Lindsey spent two weeks with her older sister in LA, John went with his mom and sisters on their annual family vacation to Disneyland, Sarah took time to travel the state with her boyfriend, Anthony hit the beach. Groans greet the topic of school, still weeks away but looming too close for our liking, and Anthony complains of being ‘abandoned’ as the rest of prepare for the transition to college life. With the exception of our young friend, we will all be attending the local community colleges, although I am the only one with a solid decision for my major. John, always having relationship troubles, bemoans his latest breakup before turning his attention to the teenage girls in the parking lot. I occasionally chip in a sarcastic remark, preferring to sip my icy creation and listen to my amigos’ ramblings. Mind wandering, their voices fade away to intermingle with the background noise as I think over my own adventures thus far: finally, finally graduating; staying out all hours of the night with these same friends week after week; the thrill and loss of showing for the final time at the county fair; the hottest two weeks of my life, spent in Oklahoma, where I stumbled into a long-distance friendship-turned-relationship that is at any given moment both easy and complicated.
The sudden impact of someone flopping down in the large chair I am already occupying, thank you very much, startles me out of my thoughts. Cheshire cat grin stretched across his face, Anthony wriggles into a more comfortable spot, ignoring my objections. Realizing it would be easier to recite the full numerical value of pi than to budge his lanky frame, I give up pushing and settle back with a dramatic sigh. Winning that much of the fight, he tilts his head back to look at me, suggesting ‘a shoulder massage, since I’m here,’ dark chocolate puppy-dog eyes in full force. I roll my eyes but cave anyway, secretly thrilled that he asked. As he snuggles closer into the armchair, a flash from the forgotten camera captures our squashed, but comfortable, arrangement, and I smile.
-
A late Friday night, just a week or so before the inevitable start of school. Five teenagers wander down the empty mainstreet of a small California town, laughing quietly and bumping shoulders as they walk. Millions of stars and a half-moon lend a soft glow to the night. Shadows dapple the faces of the two boys and three girls as they pass under a few tree branches that canopy the sidewalk. A lone pair of headlights flash by, only to be swallowed by the dark moments later as they round a turn.
The teens - my friends and I - reach a small park, a haven of grass and bushes amongst the sidewalks and storefronts. As a soft breeze picks up, I sit down on one of the small wrought-iron benches, wrapping my arms tight around my torso. The evening had been pretty warm, but my thin green tank top now provided no protection against the sudden chill. Another breeze swirls around me and tendrils of hair from my ponytail sweep against my nape, sending shivers down my spine. I watch, alone, as the other kids half-heartedly play an impromptu game of hide-and-seek, not caring whether I join in or not. Noticing my quiet distance from the group, Anthony lopes over and takes a seat beside me on the bench. Even though he's in a sleeveless red tee and faded cargo shorts, his skin is warm as he wraps a strong arm around my shoulders. As I relax into his side he takes my right hand into his left, his skin rough from weeks of evening football practice beneath a sinking summer sun. He mumbles nonsense words into my hair and I crack a smile, glancing up into dark brown eyes before nestling my head comfortably under his chin while his thumb absently strokes the back of my knuckles. 'This is bliss' I think as I breathe in deeply, the spice and warmth of his cologne filling my nostrils.
As our friends tire of their game, they group back together and head back over to where we're sitting. Anthony gives my shoulders one last squeeze before standing up, offering me a hand up as well. He stretches long arms above his head, and his shirt rides up enough to reveal a strip of toned abdomen for a brief moment. Looking out from beneath long lashes, I try to keep the staring subtle. Glancing away momentarily, I mentally shake myself, looking back up when he takes off, racing one of the girls down to the next corner and jumping to touch a street sign. As the rest of us move to catch up to them, I hang back a little, letting the cool breeze carry away the words I breathe into the darkness.